


Angels (and Demons) in the Time of Quarantine

by forestfruits1



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ambiguous Aziraphale and Crowley Relationship (Good Omens), Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), Aziraphale is So Done (Good Omens), Caring, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Crowley is So Done (Good Omens), Crowley is a Sweetheart (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Female Reader, Gen, Guardian Angels, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), POV First Person, POV Second Person, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley, Protectiveness, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Self-Insert, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Swearing, Watching Someone Sleep, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forestfruits1/pseuds/forestfruits1
Summary: In 2020, with the world in lockdown, things have become even harder than usual for you.  Just waking up is a mighty struggle.  But little do you know that two pairs of eyes - serene blue and fiery gold, have been watching out for you, closer than you ever could have imagined, whispering softly in your ear and helping you to face the day...(NB: Written with female reader in mind.  Incidental swearing, including use of the f-bomb.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Angels (and Demons) in the Time of Quarantine

**Author's Note:**

> Cards on the table - I wrote this the other day as a kind of cathartic therapy when I really was struggling to even get up and it morphed into a really enjoyable writing experience of these two wonderful characters. Honestly, I had so much fun writing their banter, but I still wanted to retain the original idea. What would Aziraphale do with everyone in lockdown? His gentle heart so full of care and love must be fit to bursting with all the new people experiencing depression and anxiety. What would Crowley do with less people out and about to tempt and play with? But yes, this was lots of fun to write and I hope you enjoy it too. Stay safe x

‘Oh, no, look, she’s gone back to sleep again…’

Aziraphale sighed defeatedly, leaning against the back of the chair propped up by the window, his brow furrowed in concern as he watched the deeply sleeping figure on the bed. This really wasn’t the ideal turn of events. He glanced across at the demon - Crowley, who was currently occupied over at the bookshelf, running an elegant painted thumb over the titles. 

‘Are you even listening to me? … Crowley?!’ the angel hissed across the room, quite unnecessarily, since no one else could actually see or hear them at that precise moment.

‘Hmm?’ Crowley mused distractedly, pulling out a particularly trashy novel, examining the cover closely, before narrowing his eyes in distaste. ‘Angel? Was this your influence?’ He waved the book airily around, brow cocked quizzically.

Aziraphale glanced over before recoiling with a defiant shake of his wavy head. ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so, I was in Peru that day. Besides, you know I have better taste than that,’ he added, slightly miffed, ‘– that one’s mine though,’ he gestured with a proud smile at an offensively heavy tome, currently propping up the rest of the books.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Crowley reached an elegant hand around the spine and jostled the volume out of position to get a better look. Blowing the dust away, he traced the gilded letting on the cover. “‘A History of the Napoleonic Wars – Essay Collection”?’ he read aloud, peering at Aziraphale who was sitting looking as pleased as punch and grinning from ear to ear.

‘Isn’t it simply marvellous?’ the angel bounced happily.

‘Aziraphale,’ Crowley paused, passing an increasingly scrutinising gaze over the pages, to the angel, and back to the pages again. ‘What in the name of Satan’s unholy left hoof possessed you? She’ll never read it – _no-one_ would ever read it!’ the corner of Crowley’s mouth twitched into an almost-smile.

Aziraphale folded his arms defiantly across his satin clad chest. ‘I’ll have you know that book is written by a world authority on that particular period. It’s very engaging – I read it and I can assure you, it’s almost like being there!’

‘You _were_ there, Aziraphale’ Crowley rolled his eyes, replacing the book on the shelf in its original position.

‘Well, exactly. That’s why I know what I’m talking about,’ Aziraphale finished pointedly, returning his gaze back to you - the sleeping human, currently bundled up in the duvet like a cosy burrito.

Crowley leaned against the window, looping his fingers in his belt loops, head cocked to the side, observing the soft breathing of aforementioned human burrito. ‘Perhaps we could poke her,’ he frowned throughtfully, looking around the room. ‘See any sticks?’

Aziraphale shot him a Look, aghast. ‘You are not _poking_ her. For heaven’s sake. We are here to merely influence and observe,’ he said, folding his hands patiently in his lap. 

Crowley sucked his teeth, glancing over his shoulder out the window at the clouds, which were beginning to clear. ‘What day is it?’

‘Thursday,’ Aziraphale replied, ‘why?’ 

‘Ah good. Never could get the hang of Thursdays,’ Crowley nodded, seemingly relieved. Turning his back on the room, he breathed on the window, before doodling in the condensation, his finger leaving steam behind as it went. 

‘Oh, good lord, just how old are you again?’ Aziraphale muttered, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

‘I am cre-a-ting art, Az-ira-phale,’ Crowley replied, annunciating dramatically, ‘just because I’m a demon, you think I don’t appreciate culture?’

‘You’re creating, alright,’ Aziraphale couldn’t help but smile now, looking up before dissolving into a frown, ‘Oh, dear, no look, stop! You’re actually creating cracks!’

Crowley’s gaze snapped back to the window, realising the hellish heat of his fingertips was beginning to fracture the glass. ‘Bollocks,’ he hissed, withdrawing his finger sharply. ‘Stupid thermal expansion – I always hated bloody physics.’

‘Actually, why _is_ it doing that?’ Aziraphale asked thoughtfully, standing to join Crowley at the window, examining the fractures, which, at Aziraphale’s touch, began to repair. ‘You don’t normally go around melting everything you lay hands on.’

Crowley shrugged off-handedly with a sniff. ‘Dunno – just one of those things,’ he replied, convincing nobody, least of all Aziraphale. 

‘Crowley,’ Aziraphale cooed softly, resting his hand on the demon’s arm, concern shining clear in his baby blues. ‘What’s wrong? Come now, you can tell me…’

‘S’nothing, Aziraphale, don’t go on, please,’ Crowley gently shrugged off the angel’s hand, who stepped back as if burned. Crowley held up his hands, trying to soften the tension that had fallen upon the room. ‘Honestly, it’s nothing, just – let’s get on with what we came here to do, ok?’

Aziraphale eyed the demon closely for a moment. They had known each other for, well – forever, and Crowley rarely raised this kind of suspicion in him. Always so cocksure and shooting from the hip, but now suddenly, defensive? A defensive demon - ha, that’s a laugh. No, something was clearly wrong, and Aziraphale was going to find out what. For now though, best to bide his time and besides, Crowley was right, they needed to concentrate on the matter in hand. 

‘...Perhaps you _could_ poke her with a stick,’ Aziraphale’s gentle voice finally parted the ringing silence.

With just one side glance at the other, both angel and demon burst out laughing, all previous awkwardness dissolving.

‘Oh, Aziraphale,’ Crowley chuckled, running a hand through his crimson hair with a sigh, ‘my dear Aziraphale – never change.’

Aziraphale chuckled happily, rocking gently on the balls of his feet. ‘One does one’s best,’ he smiled coyly.

From outside the window, a gentle breeze blew, ruffling the angel’s hair, making him sigh. ‘You know, it really is such a lovely day she’s missing out on,’ he gazed forlornly at your sleeping form before dragging the chair to your bedside and resuming his seat. Crowley watched with curious interest at a distance; as Aziraphale gently brushed his fingertips oh-so-lightly over your hair, the angel’s brow lightly furrowed as he tucked a stray hair behind your ear.

‘She’s been having such nightmares, you know, Crowley,’ he said softly, his eyes not leaving your sleeping face. ‘All the strife in the world at the moment, all the pain in her heart --I can feel it right here,’ he continued, pressing his own hand to his chest. ‘Such pain for such a small person to carry, no wonder she’s exhausted.’ 

Crowley’s lips narrowed thoughtfully before he moved over to plop down at the foot of your bed. Gingerly, as though he feared he may set fire to the bedsheets, he reached out a hand and laid it softly on your feet. He swallowed, casting a glance up at the angel, whose hand still rested lightly upon your hair.

‘Why do you care so much, Aziraphale?’ Crowley ventured quietly. ‘Of all the billions in the world, why this human?’

‘Because she’s important,’ Aziraphale replied simply. 

‘But how do you know that? Really? What makes her so special?’

Aziraphale’s finally wrenched his gaze from your face to meet Crowley’s questioning but earnest stare. ‘How can you think she _isn’t_? She’s hurting, Crowley, and I wanted to help.’

‘That’s very noble, Aziraphale, but you can’t help them all,’ Crowley replied, ‘don’t get me wrong, it’s so … _good_ of you – but you’re just one angel, not bloody Santa Claus. You can’t comfort all the people of the world in one night.’

Aziraphale drew in a slow breath before replying, voice calm but firm, ‘I can try, Crowley. I can try. Besides, I’m not alone – you’re helping me!’

‘Yes, because I’m clearly a massive mug,’ Crowley rolled his eyes. ‘Look, Aziraphale, this is all well and good for now – the world is on bloody hold and sure, my "To-Tempt" list has been significantly redacted. But if I’m helping you – _if_ , please can we try and move things along a bit?’

As angel and demon lightly bickered, you stirred in your sleep, feeling the faint warmth of the spring daylight stream in from the open window. Birdsong punctuated your fitful dreams. Just another minute, you thought groggily. Just another minute so it was one minute less you had to face the shitty reality outside of your unconscious state. It wasn’t your fault. But somehow these past weeks during the lockdown that your country was now under, you had found yourself sleeping in more, and falling into unhealthy, albeit understandable, habits. More and more it was like living in ‘Groundhog Day’ and now, you struggled to just raise your head out of the covers. It was a vicious circle. The more you slept, the more you found your dreams contorting into the worst kind of nightmares. 

‘Sshh, Crowley! I think she’s waking up,’ Aziraphale held up a hand to shut the demon up.

‘About time,’ Crowley muttered, earning himself a particularly withering look from Aziraphale. 

‘Alright, my dear,’ Aziraphale spoke softly, ‘just try and keep your eyes open now a little longer. You’re safe…that’s it, push the blanket away now…easy…sshh, you’re doing fine…’

Crowley sat back on his hands, watching Aziraphale work, the angel's soothing voice passing across the supernatural veil into your subconscious. They could reveal themselves to you, of course. That would be the easiest thing on Earth. But their orders for when influencing included remaining physically invisible and maintaining free will. That was rule number one, but equally a rule which Crowley grew increasingly tired of. Besides, being invisible for long periods got itchy in places unconducive to his favourite pair of trousers. 

You rubbed your eyes free of sleep, feeling the tell-tale pounding headache that hammered into your brain that you had indeed slept far too long – again. What a pain in the arse – why did you keep doing this to yourself? You had to somehow get a grip, but everything felt so hard right now. Even as you pushed the blanket away, and felt the cool chill of the room, your resolve to just snuggle back down again was still so strong. But no, you couldn’t keep doing this. You knew you always felt better after becoming vertical, so at least you could start with that. 

Climbing to your feet, you padded softly over to the open window, noting casually that the chair had moved beside your bed. Huh, strange. You must have got up in the night – who knows? Shrugging it off, you leant on the windowsill and bleared out at the late morning sunshine. Everything looked so still and calm. The world really was beautiful and yet the turmoil it was currently in was so unbelievable. You raised your eyes to the sky, watching as two swifts darted and dove amongst the trees. The world carried on…despite everything, nature carried on. You smiled gently to yourself. Right. Yes. Ok, shower. You could do this. Just keep on moving, one step at a time.

‘I can’t believe you moved the chair...’ Crowley grinned at Aziraphale who glowered in return.

‘Oh, Crowley, she barely noticed,’ Aziraphale protested, watching as you made your way slowly out of the bedroom towards your bathroom. 

Crowley followed the angel’s gaze. ‘I see what you mean though,' he continued quietly, 'those were _terrible_ nightmares, and I’m a demon for hell’s sake,’ he quipped. 

‘You saw them too?’ Aziraphale looked surprised.

Crowley nodded, an ember of sympathy a-glow in his eyes.

Aziraphale nodded with a sigh. ‘Yes, they’re absolutely terrible. And you and I saw the likes of Carthage…’

‘-Changping,’ Crowley added.

‘-Stalingrad…’

‘— _Leningrad_ …’

Aziraphale visibly shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself defensively. ‘All those terrible images filling just one person’s head at night…it’s too much, you know it’s frankly a wonder the poor thing can actually get up in the morning, even with our little, uh…guidance. I mean, bloody h-hell,’ the angel spluttered, the taste of the foul language suddenly filling his with mouth with an overpowering taste of metallic sulphur.

Crowley’s brows shot up into his hairline – partly in surprise and shock at the angel’s sudden outburst.

‘Aziraphale…language! I’m impressed,’

‘Well, it _is_ unspeakably hellish,’ Aziraphale retorted, successfully pressing a metallic burp with a grimace. 

In the distance, the shower turned on and both angel and demon glanced towards the direction of the gentle sound of rushing water. 

Crowley drew in a deep breath. ‘C’mon then, angel, let’s get your Good Samaritan show on the road.’

Inside the shower, you finally felt properly alive. The hot water cascading over your body, caressing your tired muscles and soothing your head was blissful. It was almost worth getting up for. As you massaged your new favourite shampoo into your hair, the bathroom filled with steam and a warm, heady fragrance. Flicking on the radio, you hummed lightly along, not really paying attention to what the song was, through the rush of the water in your ears.

‘Crowley!’ Aziraphale hissed, joining the demon at the bathroom door. ‘You can’t watch a lady shower! It’s…indecent.’

The demon stared, unphased. ‘It is? You were _in_ Eden, right? That wasn’t some other angel I met there?’

‘Oh, don’t be facetious. Times change. And yes, lord, just give her some privacy for heaven’s sake. Look, we’ll turn around, there…that’s better.’

‘Fine, whatever,’ Crowley rolled his eyes with a yawn, examining his nails. ‘But she’s left her bathrobe on the floor, just so you know…’

‘What?’ Aziraphale whipped around to see that yes, your bathrobe was sitting in a little pile on the floor. ‘Oh dearie me…’

Quick as a flash, the angel darted into the bathroom, before neatly draping the robe over the heated towel rail. There, much better. Returning to the doorway, Aziraphale rolled his eyes as Crowley smirked at him.

‘...And not even a _little_ peek. You really are an angel!’

Choosing to ignore him, Aziraphale sniffed the humid air lightly before wrinkling his nose in distaste. ‘Wait...that wasn’t what she was using last week,’ he commented, slowly noting Crowley leaning on the door-frame, grinning triumphantly into his own palm.

‘Oh, Crowley…you didn’t?!’

Crowley’s cheshire-like grin broadened and he glanced at the angel with a wide-eyed expression of utter innocence, – which for a demon, was quite the feat.

‘Moi?’

‘Oui, tu,’ Aziraphale sniffed haughtily.

Crowley chuckled. ‘What? Oh, you think _you’re_ the only one allowed to do a little strategic whispering here and there?’

‘No,’ Aziraphale said carefully, ‘of course not. Only this one, well, she was under my charge,’

‘Oh, learn to share, Aziraphale,’ Crowley gently ribbed him, ‘besides, you can’t deny it spices things up! Lovely bit of Biblical amber…’

‘Hmph,’ Aziraphale grumped, ‘she always liked strawberries…’ he said slightly mournfully. 

Crowley gazed across at the angel fondly. He was always so particular. Perhaps it was a little mean of Crowley to mess with his delicate system, but then again, it was also kind of fun. He was a demon afterall! He’d make it up to Aziraphale later though - it wasn’t worth another epic two century sulk.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Crowley said, still barely restraining a highly amused grin. ‘Look, I’ll treat you to afternoon tea somewhere, ok? A really good one. You like afternoon tea, Aziraphale – all the little fiddly sandwiches and stuff – right up your pernickety alley!’

Aziraphale’s expression softened. Damn him. Why was he so easily bought? Angels were supposed to be immune to gluttony, but he couldn’t deny that the charming ritual of afternoon tea was something of a guilty pleasure for him.

‘Well, that’s very nice of you, but you can’t – they’re all closed,’ he correctly pointed out sadly.

Crowley raised his hands to heaven. ‘Not today, Aziraphale. When this whole sorry mess is over, when we’re all back to our usual postings, and you’re back in your bookshop and I’m back raising a little hell, I will treat you to afternoon tea. Somewhere really fancy – your choice. Besides, you did endure the Texan barbeque festival with me, so I figure I owe you one anyway,’ he added, looking a little guilty.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, a nostalgic smile brightening his face. ‘Oh, I’d quite forgotten about that – yes, that was rather fun wasn’t it?’ He gave a little chuckle and doffed an invisible hat to the demon. ‘Yee-haw! Ride ‘em cowboy!’

Crowley stared incredulously at the angel who was still beaming obliviously from ear to ear. ‘Please don’t ever do that again.’

‘Apologies,’ Aziraphale quickly returned his arms to their folded position across his chest, staring at the floor.

Now, thoroughly scrubbed clean and intensely fragrant, you turned the shower off, giving a light shiver as the bathroom air began to cool around you. Stepping out, you scrunched your toes into the bathmat, and reached for your bathrobe on the floor. Finding it not there, you stared through the steam, seeing it hanging up neatly on the towel rail. You could’ve sworn…Oh well. Shaking it off, you wrapped the bathrobe around your dripping body, tightening the girdle comfortably and sinking into its delicious warmth before attending to combing and drying your hair. 

‘You know, that robe _was_ my influence,’ Aziraphale offered with a pleased smile.

Crowley nodded appreciatively. ‘Nice, angel. Very nice. Good colour… Egyptian cotton I presume?’

‘But of course! Life’s too short to dry yourself in polyester!’

‘Not cheap though…’ Crowley mused.

‘No, but’ Aziraphale lowered his voice, with a sudden grin to rival any naughty schoolboy, ‘I may have also gently suggested to the shopkeeper that it was the most perfect day for an extravagant sale.’

‘Well, well, bending the rules again, Aziraphale!’ Crowley replied, genuinely impressed. ‘Perhaps there’s a little more demon in you than you thought!’

Aziraphale stiffened but failed to completely suppress a smile. ‘Well, anyway. One needs little comforts here and there. It helps…’ he said. 

Having finished your hair, you heard your stomach growl you suddenly noticed how dry your mouth had become. Heading into the bedroom, you went to put on some clothes before making your downstairs in search of some form of breakfast or at least hot liquid to pour down your parched throat, as unbeknownst to you, angel and demon followed close behind.

Crowley seated himself at the kitchen table as if he’d lived their all his life, earning himself another pointed Look from Aziraphale. 

‘Move in, why don’t you?’ Aziraphale muttered, following you over to the kettle. ‘What she needs now is a lovely cup of tea,’ he added as you reached to open a cupboard. 

Crowley made a face. 

‘You cannot possibly dispute the restorative powers of tea, Crowley. It’s backed up by science!’ he quipped.

‘Coffee is so much better, angel. What do you want to start your day, hm? Boiled leaves? Or rocket fuel?’

‘We’re not all built for the speed of sound, you know,’ Aziraphale pointed out. ‘Tea, dear’ he whispered gently to you, leaning against the cupboards. ‘Nice cup of tea…’

Glancing through the stock in your cupboards, you frowned at what you’d really like. Normally you’d automatically reach for the tea. Tea was lovely and calming. But then, you did have that really nice coffee you’d been meaning to open…

‘TEA. You would like T.E.A.’ Aziraphale tried desperately as you pulled out the jar of coffee from the cupboard. He stared across at Crowley who opened his palms in innocence. 

‘What? Can I help it if I’m persuasive?!’ Crowley grinned. ‘Nice, strong black coffee – that will give her a good pep up.’

‘She does not need “a good pep-up”,!’ Aziraphale hissed, a ripple of irritation in his voice. ‘Now, dear,’ he turned back to you. ‘You don’t really want coffee, do you? You know what it does to your heart-rate…’

‘What are you, angel? Her doctor?!’ Crowley commentated from his vantage point, legs pulled up underneath him comfortably. ‘Besides, what happened to the holy concept of free-will if you’re telling her what she wants?’

Aziraphale paused. Damnit. As much as he hated to admit it, Crowley was probably right. There was a line after all, and it was only one blasted cup of coffee. There were times to pick your battles. He sighed, leaning back against the cupboards, watching as you happily poured hot water over the granules. ‘At least it’s not the really nasty stuff,’ Aziraphale noted, feeling an iota better about the whole situation. 

‘Just be glad I didn’t suggest she load it with sugar too!’ Crowley chuckled to himself, whilst Aziraphale looked on aghast.

‘Don’t you dare—’

Crowley chuckled. ‘I won’t, I promise I won’t, Aziraphale - don’t get your feathers all ruffled!’

There was a sudden click and both angel and demon snapped their gaze back to where you’d turned the television on. 

‘Oh...oh no, no, no…’ Aziraphale stammered, realising too late that you were already fixated on the terrible news reports coming through the screen about the global pandemic. 

‘Shit…’ Crowley said through gritted teeth. ‘I- Oh, I’m sorry, Aziraphale…’

The pair watched on helplessly as you gripped your mug tightly, tears already beginning to spill down your face. 

It was Crowley who spoke first, the chair scraped back from the table, causing you to jump out of your skin. You whipped round, but finding no one there, finally assumed you were either imagining it, or it had been something on the news. 

‘Bollocks to this,’ Crowley growled, striding forward right past Aziraphale and you, before thrusting a hand right into the circuitry of the television, which fizzed and crackled violently before turning to black with an almighty bang. 

It was uncertain who shrieked more – you or Aziraphale. Angel and human stared disbelieving at the smoking remains of the television, which was now emitting pitiful electrical death whines. Crowley backed away back to his seat at the table, nursing his hand, which was already healing. ‘Satan damnit, that really fucking stung! Bastard technology!’ the demon swore loudly. 

‘Crowley…’ Aziraphale said softly. ‘Oh, Crowley, you shouldn’t have done that…’

‘You’re bloody welcome, angel,’ Crowley said, shaking out his hand, wincing.

‘Are…are you ok?’ Aziraphale approached cautiously. ‘Can I do anything?’

Crowley gave a weak smile. ‘No, it’s fine – I’m fine. Just…see if she’s ok, yeah?’

He nodded back over to where you stood, still staring at the disaster zone. What the hell had just happened? Must have been one hell of a power surge! 

‘Come now, dear,’ Aziraphale murmured gently in your ear, taking full charge for the first time that morning. ‘How about we go outside, hmm? Don’t the birds sing so prettily? Doesn’t the sun look inviting?’

You lifted your gaze to the window, watching as the swifts had returned to the skies above. Perhaps it would be nice to get some fresh air with your coffee. You would deal with the television later. You vaguely wondered if anyone else had experienced the same thing. Perhaps you would ring your neighbours later…

Steering you past Crowley, Aziraphale led you out into your back garden, where the sun had been warming the ground for several hours already and a lovely oasis of calm had descended. Sinking down onto a bench beside you, Aziraphale watched you warmly as you sipped your coffee, your eyes fluttering closed, savouring the deep, rich flavour, feeling the warmth of the sun on your face as an intense feeling peace surrounded you. Perhaps…you hardly dared to imagine, but perhaps things might actually be ok in the end. 

Right now, you had coffee, you had sunshine and it was odd, but sometimes, you couldn’t shake the feeling, but it felt like someone was close by, just watching over you. It was nice, that sense of being protected, a pure feeling of love. Maybe that was just the sunshine and coffee though…but either way, yes, this was nice.

‘Aziraphale?’ Crowley’s voice sounded from the doorway behind. ‘Hey, angel -you ok?’

Aziraphale nodded, feeling suddenly all too human for a moment. He sniffed, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. ‘Yes,’ he replied softly, his protective gaze not leaving your blissful face. ‘But I think…I think we should go now.’

‘You sure?’ Crowley asked. ‘We can stay longer if you like,’ he shrugged. ‘I don’t mind – got nothing to do today anyway,’ he said, absent-mindedly kicking some gravel around with the toe of his shoe.

Aziraphale shook his head with a smile before standing decisively. ‘No, it’s fine. We did what we came here to do. I think she’ll be ok now.’

Crowley ran his hands through his hair, before rubbing the back of his neck thoughtfully. ‘Look, angel, if you want…I know your schedule is far more packed than mine right now, but I could always look in on her sometimes, y’know, just to keep an eye, if you wanted…’ he shrugged casually, but the intensity in his gaze belied his tone.

Aziraphale stared, wide-eyed at Crowley. ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask it of you,’ he began, ‘It’s my job, I should be the one to…’ he faltered, ‘but perhaps, maybe, we could…share? I mean, thank you, are you sure?’

Crowley nodded emphatically, smiling softly. ‘What can I say, you bring out the angel in this old demon…’

‘Crowley…’ Aziraphale looked on the verge of blubbing there and then. ‘Well, then. Thank you.’

Aziraphale returned his gaze to you for a final moment, before dipping his head lower, and planting the softest, most delicate of kisses on the top of your head. Instinctively, you reached up, but finding nothing there, snuggled back down into your coffee.

‘Goodbye for now, sweetheart, we’ll see you soon.’

Aziraphale made his retreat back towards where Crowley stood waiting, a lazy smile on his face.

‘Well, then....rightio!’ Aziraphale beamed. ‘Where to next, _o compadre_?’

‘Well,’ said Crowley, pushing his shades back onto his nose, ‘I know the pubs are closed, but I just remembered that I have a little problem with a case of some 1947 Cheval Blanc, which I suspect you’ll rather enjoy helping me solve…’


End file.
